Heavy's Lullaby
by Ellemgram
Summary: A silly little one-shot that came to me yesterday.  Everyone knows how much Heavy loves his minigun. But sometimes, things get... weird.


When Medic trotted up the stairs and found Scout curled up in the tiny space between a set of lockers and the wall, eyes wide and fingers scraping down his close-cropped hair, he assumed Demoman and Soldier had begun boasting about their "lady-friend" exploits again. It wouldn't be the first time a crate of hooch got the best of them.

As he got closer, though, something - the doctor couldn't be sure whether it was the frantic glint in Scout's eyes or the way the Bostonian had clamped his hands over his ears - convinced the doctor that something else had traumatized the team's youngest member. The hem of Medic's coat brushed against the floor as he knelt in front of his teammate.

"The singing…" Scout muttered, his sneakers scrabbling against the linoleum.

Medic raised an eyebrow. "What singing, das Kind?"

"The... the singing, Doc. I can't... it won't..."

The doctor frowned, closing his eyes and straining to hear whatever it was that had left the Scout in such a state. "There is no singing, freund."

But once the door slid shut behind him, the Medic heard it: a soft, deep voice crooning from the barracks in the next room.

"Is that… Herr Heavy?"

"He won't shut up, doc. He's been singing nonstop for almost two hours, and I can't take it any more. I can hear it all through the fort."

Rolling his eyes, Medic flung the glass barrack door open. "Nonsense, freund. I'm sure Herr Heavy will listen to reason."

But the sight that met Medic when he stepped inside the barracks was anything but reasonable. The Heavy stood in the middle of the dimly-lit room, a smile plastered across his face as he leaned over a square-shaped makeshift mattress made from stitched-together coveralls and straw. The minigun sat on top of it, all but its barrel obscured by a pink fleece blanket painstakingly tucked around its edges. Soft, tinkling music – Medic recognized it as the tune to whatever it was Heavy had been singing – came from a wind-up box on a nearby countertop.

The gargantuan man made no sign he'd noticed Medic's arrival. That in itself was enough to make the doctor raise his eyebrows; normally Heavy greeted him with a bone-crunching bear hug and promises of unending devotion.

"Er… Herr Heavy?"

"Not good for doctor to disturb Sasha's bedtime," Heavy replied, glancing in Medic's direction long enough to give him an irritated scowl. "Big match tomorrow. Sasha needs rest."

"Yes, but so does the rest of the tea-"

"Enough!" Dinner plate-sized fists smashed down on either side of the mattress, rattling it. "Look what doctor did! Now Sasha fussy."

Like a patient father, the Heavy tutted and shook his head, stroking the gun with one finger. Slowly, Medic made his way back toward the door,.

And then, to Medic's horror, he started to sing.

"Hush, leetle Sasha, is time to go to bed.

"First thing tomorrow you kill all of Blu team dead.

"And if dirty Blu Scout steals Sandvich from me,

"I use your barrel to break both his knees.

"That's what I meant."

Medic jumped; he hadn't realized Scout had crept into the barracks behind him. Mouth agape, the doctor turned to look at his smaller coworker.

"Yeah. He won't stop, either. The guys took off to Sniper's van for the night. They locked me out." Scout made a face.

As they spoke, Heavy broke into the second verse.

"When sunrise comes we kill a hundred men.

"And after lunch we do it all again.

"Sasha, dear, you make my heart so proud.

"Surely you are prettiest gun in town.

In the dark, Medic leaned down and whispered in Scout's ear. "How many verses are there?"

"I lost count at sixteen."

"Mein Gott."

"What do we do?"

The doctor's eyes glinted dangerously. "My friend, there is only one thing to do."

Scout pounded on the ancient van's sliding door. "Let me in! It's cold out here!"

"Sorry mate, there's no room."

"But you let Doc in!"

A pause, then. "He brought movies."

An anguished howl resonated from outside the van. The rest of the Red team snickered mischievously.

Inside the fort, Heavy gave his minigun an indulgent smile and settled into the bed next to it.

"Sasha, tomorrow will be good day."


End file.
